


Accidentally Kise

by meguri_aite



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: (and a lot of sweating on my part), (smut how to), M/M, Teikou Era, a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine's quality time with his gravures gets rudely interrupted by a teen fashion magazine.</p><p>  <i>He was deeply uncomfortable to the level it was becoming a pain, and it all started with that one damn mistake that was all Kise’s fault.</i></p><p>  <i>It started out innocently enough. Well, in the broader meaning of the word. Aomine was minding his own business, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet alone with his gravures, doing what he usually did at such times, of course.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidentally Kise

**Author's Note:**

> blame [yonha](http://yonha.tumblr.com/) for this unapologetic story, she bribed me. i'll be washing my hands off any responsibility then, brb looking for my mind in the knb gutter
> 
> [throwingscissorsatinternets](http://throwingscissorsatinternets.tumblr.com/), thanks for the beta and, um, teh cute knb headcanoning ♥
> 
> [kexing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kexing), i totally blame you too

Fuck it. Fuck all of that. Fuck Kise.

Aomine winced and shook his head. No.

It was all Kise’s fucking fault.

Yes. That sounds about right.

 

He was deeply uncomfortable to the level it was becoming a pain, and it all started with that one damn mistake that was all Kise’s fault.

It started out innocently enough. Well, in the broader meaning of the word.

Aomine was minding his own business, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet alone with his gravures. Doing what he usually did at such times, which was leisurely jerking off, idly gazing at curvy chicks showing off their bodies on the glossy pages. The chicks were appropriately hot, the activity was familiar and the build-up of pressure was pleasantly slow. He was relaxed, comfortable and a bit sleepy, none of which got in the way of jerking off to his heart’s content.

He lazily glanced at the top open magazine – a brunette hottie in a Ferrari red bikini pouted her equally red lips at him – and wondered if it was yet the time to up the rhythm a bit. There was no hurry, but he didn’t have a particular urge to drag things out, either. Aomine pushed the magazine with the red bikini girl off the top of the stack, thinking if there was nothing particularly eye-catching in the next one, he’d finish quickly and go to sleep, but what he saw next was not anything he expected.

Because the model shamelessly striking a pose on the cover of the next magazine was none other than Kise. Aomine practically jolted with surprise – the hell he was doing there with his pretty boy photo shoots for teen magazines? – but the momentary hitch of his breath didn’t break the steady movements of his hand. His heartbeat was a bit jumpy from the surprise, though, so Aomine moved his left hand to push away the offending magazine.

But somehow, instead of getting out of his face, the magazine ended up laid open on top of all others, Kise’s face looking straight at him, stupid smile and ridiculous eyelashes and all.

Aomine groaned and let out a strained huff. Fuck. It was obscene, these photo shoots of Kise’s were obscene. Compelled to go on – by disgust, of course – Aomine flipped a page with a heavy hand. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to make Kise sit on a chair like that, with his dumb long legs sprawled on either side of it, hands gripping the back of the chair and his head sharply tilted back? It had to be the most stupid pose ever. Aomine took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his face with his free hand. And was it some jewelry sparkling at the hollow of Kise’s bared throat? Aomine leaned in to get a closer look and nearly lost his balance. Jesus fuck. It totally was. How fucking dumb was that?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get the annoyance tightening his shoulders out of his system, but it didn’t work. His heart was already angrily beating in his throat in sync with the heat pulsing in his groin and spreading up his arms and chest. Fuck it. Kise ruined this for him, that much was definite.

Angrily, he snapped his eyes open and stared furiously at the next page, where Kise was– oh god, holy fuck, what was he even doing? Aomine bit into his lip and shook his head. His hair wet, water dripping from its tips and right onto his shoulders and below, soaking a fucking excuse of a shirt into some see-through nonsense, Kise was looking back at him through his fingers splayed against his stupid face. Water was glistening on his stupid pale skin, and Aomine looked at it, wide-eyed, and the only thought thumping in his head as loud as his blood flow was, “Is that even allowed.” Fucking illegally obscene, that’s what it was.

When he noticed that Kise’s lips, mostly obscured by his hand, were curved into one fucking cocky smile, Aomine lost it. He tightly closed his eyes until sparks – suspiciously similar in color to Kise’s dumb hair – flew in his mind, let himself be pulled under in the rhythm of his hand working on his dick, moving fast and then faster until his brain short-circuited and then blacked out in what had to be the craziest orgasm he had ever had.

Lying on his back and trying to catch his breath – and chase away the annoying sparks – Aomine grunted, “Fuck.”

Fuck, that was awkward. And stupid. Fucking Kise.

Aomine forced himself to crack his eyes open just to glare at the stupid magazine, saw that it was still open on the same page where Kise was being the world’s most indecent idiot, and also wet, and quickly closed them back.

 

The thing is, he was a pretty carefree person. Mulling over problems or incidents wasn’t in his nature, so Aomine had thought that this one – even if he was still mystified at how that teen magazine turned up in his porn stash – was no exception either.

It took exactly one practice session for Teiko’s starting members to prove him so, so wrong.

The enormity of his mistaken assumption was as undeniable and solid as the hard-on he got in the first one-on-one against Kise. It was completely normal at first – Aomine made a steal, swooped past the small forward, and then they ran across the court several times, trying to one up each other. It was totally and completely normal until that damn moment when Kise huffed and rubbed the sweat off his face with his hand, and looked at Aomine through his fingers.

“Wow, you’re really fast today, Aominecchi,” Kise said, and Aomine stood in his tracks, dumbstruck, annoyed and with what was unquestionably a hard-on.

Thankfully, Akashi’s idea of a training regimen befitting the team was pretty close to ‘your average good day in hell’, so Aomine didn’t have much time to dawdle in disgust. And anyway, he would be the last person to object to more basketball as a cure-all. In his experience, that worked ten times out of ten.

Or at least it did, until now.

During the next practice, Kise tripped over Murasakibara, who seemed to be playing in his sleep, and sprawled on his back. He took ages to stand up, too, sitting on his ass laughing at himself, legs spread apart and his weight on his hands. Of course, Aomine had to pick Kise up from the floor by the scruff of his jersey – they didn’t have all day to sit around. And the faster they went back to playing, the faster Aomine’s mind would be taken off another stupid boner and trying to figure out why the hell he had it in the first place. He strongly suspected the damn magazine was at fault, but couldn’t quite figure how.

Another day, Kise had the bright idea to come to practice with some piece of jewelry dangling from his stupid pale neck, and Aomine had to threaten him with a few basketballs to the head before the idiot took it off, pouting. Aomine refused to be sympathetic when Kise was so not the one who had to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. At home, Aomine revisited his porn stash a few times just to make sure that yes, boobs still rocked his boat, so what was the deal with Kise, then?

All this thinking did nothing to improve his temper, and Kise getting in his face on the court helped none, either. Aomine wanted to pay him back for his own discomfort by making him sweat twice as much during practice, so that Kise’s pretty boy model legs barely held him up at the end of the day. That was satisfying, but somehow did fuck all to help get rid of the boners.

 

He got his answer from Midorima of all people. Not that he’d asked him, of course.

It was just before an early morning practice, when everyone on the team was cracking their jaws yawning or running laps to shake off sleep. Everyone except Kise, who was languidly stretching like a poster boy for yoga classes - for the benefit of some girls who had more enthusiasm than common sense, if they managed to drag themselves out of bed to stalk the basketball team at this hour.

“Kise should do something about his Pavlovian modeling,” Midorima huffed, looking up from untaping his fingers.

“Bzuh?” Aomine shook his head in confusion. He was trying to chase away the image of Kise looking cheerfully at the girls from under his bangs, but Midorima took it as his invitation to be a condescending smart-ass.

“Conditioned reflexes, for those of us who actually go to school?” Midorima was done fiddling with his tape and was now looking at him over the frames of his glasses in a universal better-than-thou manner of all meganes around the world. “When some stimulus, which is initially incapable of evoking a certain response, gains this ability after it has been paired with another stimulus that is originally able to evoke the said response. Simply put, in any environment Kise hears camera shutter sounds, he reflexively snaps into his modeling stances, because that’s his professional quirk. Do you really not know about the classic experiment by Pavlov-”

But Aomine had already tuned out Midorima’s droning, because he was busy having a revelation. Midorima’s theory – or Pavlov’s, whatever – was brilliant and explained absolutely everything.

Of course, Aomine’s reactions were perfectly natural. Kise’s dumb face was that stray stimulus that weaseled into Aomine’s head during that time he was jerking off, and was now giving him boners like normal stuff, like boobs and - stuff.

Yeah.

Totally natural.

Aomine shifted his feet, as aware of his hard-on as he was of the strip of skin on Kise’s back where his jersey rode up from his exercises, and looked at Midorima again.

“Say, do you know how these conditional reflexes stop?” he asked.

Midorima’s speechless expression was answer enough.

“Hey, I was just asking. Whatever, not like I care.”

 

This, too, was grossly inaccurate.

Because while he no longer savaged his porn stash in search for answers on burning questions like “why the fuck Kise”, he still had none for “what the fuck do I do with fucking Kise boners”.

They didn’t show any sign of disappearing any time soon, same way that Aomine was getting no closer to knowing what to do with Kise. Avoiding him was impractical (as was informing Akashi that he wants to skip practice for reasons of inappropriate boners), ignoring him didn’t seem possible (Kise’s goal in life seemed to be getting noticed by everyone) and taking it out on Kise turned out problematic. As in, slamming into him and falling on the floor together or shaking him by his shoulders or whatever other impulse Aomine had acted on ended up being “uh-oh, I really need to take a cold shower LIKE RIGHT NOW” kind of problematic.

He was getting so desperate that he wondered if he should ask Satsuki about those Pavlov’s reflexes, maybe there was a book somewhere that said how to stop them.

 

Just when Aomine was starting to think he’d strain something of his if this went on for any longer, Kise came up to him after practice one day, looking determined and damn fine. Aomine literally had to shake these dumb thoughts out of his head, to Kise’s apparent confusion.

“Yeah?”

“Um, Aominecchi, are you alright?” Whatver Kise saw in Aomine’s face, it made him take a step back with a laugh and shake his head. “No, wait, Momocchi told me to go about it differently.”

“What does Satsuki have to say?” Aomine frowned.

“Wait a second, I hope this clears it up,” said Kise, and then, steadying himself with a small cough, continued, “Aominecchi-”

“Yeah?” His gut feeling told him he wouldn’t like where this was going. Aomine wondered if he can get out of it by pushing Kise out of his way, but then quickly reconsidered, remembering the effect it was most likely to have.

“Aominecchi, what did you think of my photo shoot for _Teen Queen_?”

Kise had an earnest expression of a student reciting poetry he did not understand, and Aomine’s single biggest desire was to erase the last minute of his life from existence, preferably along with Kise’s pretty face.

Also, he really wanted to tell Kise and his fucking pretty face to go to hell, but what came out of his mouth was a strangled choke.

“Wow, she was right!” Kise exclaimed, surprised at the effect his words had, and stepped up closer to him. “This is related!”

“What is related?” Aomine managed to croak out.

“This!” Kise said, pointing a finger at his chest with accusation, and Aomine frantically looked around, hoping to find some distraction, but the locker room was empty but for the two of them.

“You are being weird, your play has been rough,” Kise continued, jabbing at him for every point he made. “Your game is not quite off yet, but I can see something else is. What is your problem, then?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Aomine lied through his teeth. Maybe he should just push Kise off his chest and be done with this conversation already. “Get off my case!”

“I won’t, until you tell me what the problem is,” Kise said resolutely, leaned against the nearest locker with one shoulder and put down his leg down on the bench, effectively barring the way.

“I don’t have a single fucking problem!” Aomine growled, slamming his fist against the same row of lockers, practically hearing the sound of his temper snapping. “I have a fucking boner, and it’s all your fucking fault! Your and that stupid magazine’s!”

The silence between the two of them was so thick that Aomine wildly thought he could hear sweat trickle down his neck.

This, too, was all Kise’s fucking fault, he thought distantly. Shouldn’t have cornered him.

The silence was broken by a small chuckle that sounded so much unlike anything he has heard before that Aomine had to remind himself that it couldn’t have come from anyone but Kise.

Aomine briefly wondered if there was anything he could say at this point, but then sent this idea to hell. His mouth was too dry to talk anyway.

“A boner is not a problem,” Kise said in a low voice, and Aomine told himself he wasn’t leaning on the lockers for support.

And Kise, fucking Kise who was looking straight at him from under his pretty bangs with a look more heated than anything he ever saw in any magazine, quickly put an end to any further thought in Aomine’s head.

In fact, Aomine could have sworn there wasn’t a single drop of blood left in his brain, because it all rushed to where Kise’s hand was, lying light and hot just below the elastic band of his shorts.

In other words, right over Aomine’s dick.

“Do you know why, Aominecchi?” continued Kise in his voice as smooth as sin while his hand moved to scrape lightly at the skin just above the band of the shorts, and Aomine has a sudden urge to break something.

“Fuck. Kise.”

“Exactly that,” Kise said, visibly pleased, hitched the edge of the shorts with two fingers and dragged them down in one excruciatingly slow and uncomfortable movement that felt better than anything, ever.

Aomine groaned. Kise chuckled his small, dangerous chuckle, and without any warning slammed Aomine against the lockers with his whole body, knocking the breath out of him.

Fuck, sweet fuck, just in time, thought Aomine, whose legs were about as useful as his brain at this point.

“Good thing you have me, isn’t it?” Kise whispered, and went down on his knees, making sure to touch as much of Aomine with his body on his way down as was humanly possible, the shameless thing.

Kise laughed again, and Aomine felt a warm gust of Kise’s breath against his stomach, and Kise’s fingers biting into his hipbones, and the only thing he could do was to lean even heavier against the locker and gasp for air.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck was the only thing thrumming in his head because anything more important than that was happening where Kise was, where Kise’s mouth was, and maybe if he actually managed to stop looking at Kise’s face, he would last a second longer and not see him look up at him shamelessly, yeah, just like that and -

Oh, fuck. Fuuuuck.

He just nearly knocked himself unconscious by hitting the locker door with the back of his head, or maybe it was the orgasm, hard to tell. Aomine groaned and closed his eyes.

Kise laughed again, clearly very pleased with himself. Aomine felt him do his full-bodied fluid movement again, and shut his eyes even tighter.

When Kise’s voice reached him again, it sounded very low and very, very close to his ear.

“Well, maybe next time you can help me with my problem, Aominecchi.”

Aomine was obviously still suffering from blood shortage in his brain, because his eyes seemed to take forever to open in response. Two seconds, maybe three.

By then, he was the only person left in the room, his own breathing the only sound in it.

“Fucking Kise,” he said slowly and leaned back against the lockers.


End file.
